Never Dance with a Duke Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Quote

  Copyright

  Get Your FREE Digital Book!

  Other Collette Cameron Books

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  NEVER DANCE WITH A DUKE

  Seductive Scoundrels, Book Seven

  By

  COLLETTE CAMERON

  Blue Rose Romance®

  Portland, Oregon

  Sweet-to-Spicy Timeless Romance®

  I knew you needed time to find your own way,

  and I prayed, daily, that it would lead you to me.”

  NEVER DANCE WITH A DUKE

  Seductive Scoundrels

  Copyright © 2020 Collette Cameron®

  Cover Design by Kim Killion

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

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  The Honorable Rogues™

  A Kiss for a Rogue

  A Bride for a Rogue

  A Rogue’s Scandalous Wish

  To Capture a Rogue’s Heart

  The Rogue and the Wallflower

  A Rose for a Rogue

  Castle Brides Series

  The Viscount’s Vow

  Highlander’s Hope

  The Earl’s Enticement

  Heart of a Highlander (prequel to Highlander’s Hope)

  The Blue Rose Regency Romances: The Culpepper Misses Series

  The Earl and the Spinster

  The Marquis and the Vixen

  The Lord and the Wallflower

  The Buccaneer and the Bluestocking

  The Lieutenant and the Lady

  Highland Heather Romancing a Scot Series

  Triumph and Treasure

  Virtue and Valor

  Heartbreak and Honor

  Scandal’s Splendor

  Passion and Plunder

  Seductive Surrender

  A Yuletide Highlander

  Seductive Scoundrels Series

  A Diamond for a Duke

  Only a Duke Would Dare

  A December with a Duke

  What Would a Duke Do?

  Wooed by a Wicked Duke

  Duchess of His Heart

  Never Dance with a Duke

  Coming soon in the series!

  The Debutante and the Duke

  Wedding her Christmas Duke

  How to Win A Duke’s Heart

  Loved by a Dangerous Duke

  When a Duke Loves a Lass

  Wicked Earls’ Club

  Earl of Wainthorpe

  Earl of Scarborough

  Heart of a Scot

  To Love a Highland Laird

  To Redeem a Highland Rogue

  To Seduce a Highland Scoundrel

  To Woo a Highland Warrior

  To Enchant a Highland Earl

  To Defy a Highland Duke

  Coming soon in the series!

  To Marry a Highland Marauder

  To Bargain with a Highland Buccaneer

  Boxed Sets

  Lords in Love

  To Love a Reckless Lord

  The Honorable Rogues™ Books 1-3

  The Honorable Rogues™ Books 4-6

  Seductive Scoundrels Series Books 1-3

  The Blue Rose Regency Romances- The Culpepper Misses Series 1-5

  For everyone who enjoys early morning walks as much as Nicolette and I do.

  Hyde Park, London

  Morning, 15 May 1810

  Nicolette Twistleton puffed out a soft, poignant sigh as she strolled the sun-dappled footpath along the southern bank of the Serpentine in Hyde Park.

  Bella, her pug puppy, frolicked about, yanking on her leash in an energetic attempt to investigate every single thing she happened upon: leaves, sticks, insects, rocks, worms, people— and their shoes. She had a particular penchant for the latter, which she thoroughly enjoyed ruining with her needle-like teeth.

  Thus far, a trio of Nicolette’s slippers and a pair of half-boots had met a gruesome end.

  A pair of brownish-gray mourning doves swooped across the pathway, landing beneath a flowering cherry tree’s heavily laden branches. Cooing softly, they touched bills, in what almost appeared to be an avian kiss.

  Several feet behind Nicolette—enough to permit a bit of privacy but not so much as to cause raised eyebrows—her maid, Jane, carried Nicolette’s parasol and hummed softly to herself.

  A distracted half-smile curving her mouth, Jane twirled the plump pink peony she’d plucked from the front flower bed when they left the house an hour ago.

  Jane was madly in love.

  She and Jack, one of the Twistleton grooms, were to wed next month. Her dreamy expression and wistful sighs were beginning to wear on Nicolette’s tattered nerves, however. As happy as she was for the loyal servant, she couldn’t prevent the reoccurring twinge in the region of her heart.

  Oh, the pang most assuredly was not envy.

  No indeed—God forbid such a wholly ludicrous idea.

  The familiar ache was a bitter reminder of Nicolette’s absolute humiliation and devastation two years ago. Her then betrothed, Alfonse Bremerton, the Duke of Kilbourne, had jilted her a mere four hours before they were to have exchanged vows at St. George’s Church. After the odious churl had danced with her thrice at a ball the night before, pretending to be the doting soon-to-be groom.

  When his note had arrived the morn of their wedding day, she’d eagerly opened it, expecting a love note.

  Nicolette,

  I cannot marry you.

  Forgive me.

  K

  Kilbourne hadn’t even deemed her worthy of an endearment.

  Seven words.

  Twelve short syllables.

  Thirteen if you counted Alfonse’s initial, which she did not.

  That was all it took to destroy Nicolette’s life, her plans for the future, and make her determined never to trust a rogue again. Or even marry for that matter.

  How could she possibly ever trust her gullible heart again?

  By the time she’d received her former betrothed cryptic note calling off their wedding, the cowardly cur was already half-way to Gretna Green with Maribelle Grosenick—a vulgarly rich heiress hailing from America.

  Even more mortifying—salt in an already festering wound—Kilbourne’s heir, a healthy male child, had entered the world a mere six-and one-half months later. Irrefutable proof that the blackguard had been playing Nicolette false during their courtship.

  And he’d dared—dared, by God!—to plead with her to consummate their vows the eve of their wedding. After all, they were to exchange vows on the morrow, he’d cajoled, and all the while, Kilbourne been plotting to scorn her.

  Scapegrace. Hog-grubber. Jackanape.

  Typical man—controlled by that thing between his legs and not the brain in the head atop his shoulders. And most assuredly not governed by any sense of decency, honor, or chivalry.

  “Contemptible, maggot-patted bounder.” She snorted, loudly and most indelicately, earning her a curious look from Bella’s big brown eyes and also sending the cooing doves to wing.

  “No, I wasn’t talking to you, my precious darling,” Nicolette told the sweet little dog, she acquired the purebred pug in Colechester two months ago. Bending, she patted Bella’s soft head, earning a doggy grin in return. “Are you having fun?”

  Tongue lolling, Bella gazed at her adoringly and promptly tried to nip Ni
colette’s gloved fingers in an attempt to play. Everything was a chew toy for the teething pup.

  Thank goodness for this little dog who’d helped ease the sadness and loneliness Nicolette hid from the world behind a carefully constructed contradictory facade: part carefree flirt and part coldly aloof spinster.

  She donned her mask of gay coquette and pretended to all of the world that she didn’t have a single care. That being jilted hadn’t affected her in the least. Until a man became too familiar or forward, then she retreated into an icy shell.

  Men never knew which she’d be, on any given occasion, and she preferred it that way. It kept them slightly off-balance, which meant they couldn’t ever get close to her. And if they couldn’t get close, she ran no risk of heartbreak again.

  It also kept the gentlemen from presuming too much. And Nicolette’s caustic tongue deterred even the more daring of the bucks from over boldness. She’d once overheard two matrons declaring Nicolette’s tongue was sharp enough to scrape barnacles from a ship.

  Bah, she scolded herself for allowing her mind to wander down these melancholy paths on such a lovely day.

  She was better off without Kilbourne.

  That, she now knew to be an unqualified fact. For a man who’d stray while betrothed would assuredly do so once vows had been exchanged.

  Had Maribelle considered that when she’d dallied with another’s affianced?

  She ought to have.

  For if the rumors were accurate—and there was generally a tidbit of truth in all tattle if one dug around enough to find the nugget—he’d recently become romantically entangled with an Italian opera singer.

  Another sound of disgust echoed in Nicolette’s throat.

  That made his fifth mistress since marrying.

  Perchance, the lure of a title had sufficed for Maribelle, and after providing the requisite heir, she was content with her lot. Gossip also had it that the Duchess of Kilbourne was in the Americas for an extensive visit.

  So perhaps, she’d come to her senses, after all.

  Nevertheless, from that fateful day onward, at twenty years old, Nicolette had relegated love and all of the other flimflam associated with the useless emotion to a fusty, secluded corner of her heart. Where, in time, she hoped to forget she’d ever entertained such foolish, fanciful notions.

  Pragmatism had replaced romanticism—reality instead of girlish daydreams.

  Her desire for love had been exchanged with a passion for adventure. At least that’s what she believed this restlessness besetting her was. She’d approached Mama and Ansley about the possibility of traveling to exotic foreign destinations. But both had looked at her with such incredulity, she might’ve sprouted a pair of wings upon her shoulders or feathers in her hair.

  Her mother and brother did not share her enthusiasm for exploring other cultures and places. They were perfectly content dividing their time between London during the Season and Fawtonbrooke Hall the rest of the time.

  Oh, an occasional short holiday to Bath or Bristol, or even a jaunt to France or Scotland for a few days, might be acceptable. But nothing so dramatic or distant as exploring ancient cities or other antiquities.

  However, for a spinster facing a boring, lonely future, the notion of visiting faraway, mystical places had taken the place of her desire for love, marriage, and children.

  Or so Nicolette told herself. Repeatedly. Daily.

  However, as contradictory as it might be, she was sincerely glad for her married friends. Several had recently fallen in love and were happy as grigs with their very own dukes. Just because love hadn’t worked out well for her, didn’t mean she begrudged them their happily ever afters.

  She, alone, seemed to have been Cupid’s failure.

  Puzzling her forehead, she bit her lower lip and skirted a fallen branch, a remnant from last night’s windstorm.

  The whole being jilted ordeal still hurt. Awfully. Encompassed Nicolette with a desolation, she only acknowledged when lying in her lonely bed at night. When all of the day’s activities were behind her, and her mind was, at last, permitted to contemplate the reality she stoically ignored otherwise.

  Nicolette faced a solitary and purposeless future, and when she’d grown tired of proving to le beau monde that she didn’t care about being tossed aside, what would she do?

  Upon spying a twig on the path, Bella yipped and tugged upon her leash. She pounced on her unwitting prey before clamping her little jaws around the eight-inch long stick and marching along proudly for a few steps, her curled tail in the air.

  Only in the last couple of weeks had Nicolette’s training Bella to walk on a leash met with enough success that the puppy could accompany her the entire length of her morning walks.

  When an immense long-haired black dog loped by on the adjacent green, she promptly deserted her toy, dropping it to the pathway and trying with all of her might to chase the dog. The runt of her litter, Bella had no notion of her extra small size, even at almost four months old.

  In the distance, an impatient male voice called after the large dog. “Sampson! Stop.”

  Oh, dear. Had he escaped his owner?

  Undoubtedly, and one snap of his big jaws would severely injure Bella.

  “No, Bella,” Nicolette gently admonished.

  The biscuit-colored pup was still learning appropriate leash behavior. She strained against her restraint, her sturdy little body visibly quivering for another moment before Bella reluctantly resumed her version of strolling.

  These early morning promenades, when Mama was still abed, were the only times Nicolette claimed for herself. She raised her face to catch a ray of sun feathering through the bright green foliage.

  Its warmth soothed and rejuvenated her.

  It was a glorious spring morning, and she breathed out a deep, cleansing breath.

  Typically, the weather would’ve invigorated Nicolette and helped prepare her to face whatever social fracas Mama had decided she must endure for the day and evening.

  Always—always, dash it all—with the ultimate goal of seeing her happily wed. Mama wasn’t ready to quit the field just yet regarding Nicolette’s nuptials—more’s the pity. She still dreamed her only daughter would find a suitable husband and eventual contentment.

  And live happily ever after.

  Pshaw. Nicolette wrinkled her nose.

  As if that was ever going to happen now.

  She’d given love a chance once, and with a few exceptions—her brother Ansley, Earl of Scarborough, being one—she’d henceforth concluded men were toads. No, toads could be cute, intriguing creatures, and it was unfair to make the comparison.

  Surely she could do better than that.

  Cockroaches.

  Yes, men were cockroaches—the lot of them.

  Most especially handsome dukes.

  Well, excluding her friends’ husbands—the Dukes of Sheffield, Sutcliffe, Bainbridge, and Pennington—who were decent enough chaps, she supposed.

  Fine then, not all lords were devil’s spawns. Just most.

  Mindful of her propensity to freckle, Nicolette lowered her face, and her pink bonnet’s brim blocked the soothing sunshine once more. A smile tipped her mouth as Bella spotted a squirrel and made to charge after the small creature.

  However, this particular squirrel, nearly as big as the pug, wasn’t having any of Bella’s bravado. It sat upon its haunches, scolding the puppy soundly for her impudence.

  “Ruff.” Bella hopped on all fours. “Ruff. Ruff. Ruff.”

  Hop. Hop. Hop.

  She bounced on her sturdy little legs again, whining fretfully in her attempts to reach the taunting rodent.

  Why, the little gray wretch appeared to grin tauntingly at Bella. It’s small, sharp, yellow teeth clearly showing, it even made little chirping noises, which sounded distinctly like squirrely chuckles.

  The dog that had raced by earlier must’ve heard Bella’s frantic barks for it came tearing across the green straight toward them. Nicolette’s heart faltered before kicking into double time.

  A liveried footman charged after the creature, but he couldn’t possibly catch the animal before he was upon Nicolette.